


Loom & Thread

by GlowingMechanicalHeart



Series: Fictober20 [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Brother-Brother Relationship, Brotherly Love, Crafts, Family Fluff, Gen, fictober20, handmade gifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:20:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26792782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlowingMechanicalHeart/pseuds/GlowingMechanicalHeart
Summary: “Don’t listen to him. Do what you love Moryo, and I’m sure you’ll be the best at it.”He nods, grateful for Nelyo’s comforting words and his understanding; he’s always been the one that knew what to say, to make them feel better, no matter what. And for that he’s glad Nelyo’s the eldest, he is grateful for him, always will be.Two days later, Nelyo gifts him with cloth, thread, needles and other things he may need. A week later, Atar gives him a loom with a solemn look in his face, “It was my Amil’s,” his voice softer than he’d ever heard it. “Nelyo spoke about your wants, so I figured you could use it. Treat the loom with care Moryo, and use it well.”
Relationships: Caranthir | Morifinwë & Maedhros | Maitimo
Series: Fictober20 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974964
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39
Collections: Fictober20





	Loom & Thread

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fictober-Event, prompt #3.- “you did this?”

Carnistir prefers the loom and embroidery over the forge, over his mother’s sculpting too. It starts at a young age, at an age when most ellyn are running about and climbing trees, he doesn’t, instead, he grabs a shirt and needle and thread and makes a simple design.

It ends a little crooked, but he considers it a good first attempt. Being the son of his parents, he knows better than most that, innate talent can be nurtured and grow. So, that’s what he does. He practices on his things, little simple designs here and there.

When someone another boy asks about the embroidery in his tunic, he proudly declares they’re his. The other boy laughs, says it’s not something ellon do. His temper flares, pushes the boy into a mud puddle and stalks homes.

It’s Nelyo who asks – but then again, he always does – about it. 

“I like it, I want to work on the loom and embroider.” He says, he does not pout. “A boy made fun of me.”

Nelyo, Varda bless him, simply puts his hand on his shoulder and smiles softly down at his brother. “Don’t listen to him. Do what you love Moryo, and I’m sure you’ll be the best at it.”

He nods, grateful for Nelyo’s comforting words and his understanding; he’s always been the one that knew what to say, to make them feel better, no matter what. And for that he’s glad Nelyo’s the eldest, he is grateful for him, always will be.

Two days later, Nelyo gifts him with cloth, thread, needles and other things he may need. A week later, Atar gives him a loom with a solemn look in his face, “It was my Amil’s,” his voice softer than he’d ever heard it. “Nelyo spoke about your wants, so I figured you could use it. Treat the loom with care Moryo, and use it well.”

“Thank you, Atar, I will.” Solemn and serious he promises. He knows that his father treasures that loom. And another wave of gratefulness washes over him for Nelyo. Decides to make him something nice as thanks.

So, he throws himself at learning, discovers how fast hours pass him by with ease. He starts small, and as his skill grows, so do his works. Through it all, Nelyo keep bringing him things, his shirts that need mending (so he can practice), thread, beads and needles, lace, pen and ink for his designs and sketches and other things besides. He’s grateful for the confidence his brother has in him. Soon enough, he’s made a tapestry that atar hangs in the drawing room. A shawl for amil. But for Nelyo, he designs a shirt in deep blue with green, gold and silver designs that he’ll embroider on. A belt in the same design. And so, he starts and does so with care. Hides this particular work, doesn’t want anyone to see it until it’s ready, doesn’t want a word to reach Nelyo until he presents his gift. He’ll work on something for atar and amil, but that’ll come after.

He wonders through the market once Nelyo’s shirt and belt are ready to be embroidered. He seeks gold and silver thread, beads in red, gold and black. Finds his treasures and hides them alongside Nelyo’s gift. And with care and a patience that – before he started working on the loom – he didn’t know he had, he works slowly. Every stitch is made with the utmost care, every bead placed in the right spot, one after the other. And his design comes to life in the blink of an eye.

Before he even declares his work ready, he inspects it three times. Runs his hands over the designs, makes sure the beads are placed correctly and in such a manner they shine in the light. Once he is completely happy, he wraps it in silk and adds a bow. He’ll give it to Nelyo in the morrow, it’s late, there’s no need to wake Nelyo over this.

The following morning, once everyone has left the table, he follows Nelyo to his work space. Nelyo prefers to work with clay, something that he never quite got, but then again, they all like different things. Creativity is something that runs strong in their family. And he speaks before his brother can dirty his hands.

“Nelyo,” He near bounces at the door of his brother’s work space. “Brother, I have something for you.”

Nelyo blinks, then his smiles. “Oh?”

He shifts, from one foot to the other. “Can you come into my room, I have a gift for you there.”

“Of course.”

He rushes to his room, pleased to see that Nelyo has followed, dives into his closet and retrieves the bundle he stashed there the previous evening. His brother sits on his bed, he offers the gift. “Here, for you.”

Nelyo smiles and opens carefully his gift. His brother’s eyebrows shoot upwards, he looks up and grins, “You did this?” He nods and Nelyo’s grin grows. He watches as his brother inspects first the belt, sees the careful way his fingers go over the embroidery and the gentle way they touch the beads, as if he were afraid of disturbing them. Nelyo lifts the shirt next and he watches as his brother repeats his actions with the belt. “You are gifted, little brother,” Nelyo finally says. “These are a fine pair of gifts that I will always treasure. The feather patterns are flawless, and the colors are well chosen. Thank you. I will wear them at the next formal dinner we attend.”

He grins at his brother, Nelyo never lies about these things, so he rests easy knowing that he has pleased his brother. Pride in his work grows. Now, all he has to do is design a shawl for ammë and something for atto. With that in mind, he starts making plans.

Nelyo, true to his word, wears his gifts on the next chance he gets. His brother looks great in them, with his pale skin and copper hair, the blues and greens he picked compliment him quite nicely and he resists the urge to bounce in excitement. It’s not princely to do so in public.

He’s thankful for his darker complexion when he overhears someone ask Nelyo about the shirt and belt, specially because the pride in his brother’s voice when he says, “Well, it was a gift. From Carnistir. Isn’t my brother quite talented?”

He stands taller than he’d ever done.


End file.
